


in retrospect

by Arya_Silvertongue



Series: Starman 'verse [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anthony Stark Fails at Emotions, Childhood Friends, Crossover, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: Tony Stark owes someone an apology, but finding the guts to say sorry is proving to be the least of his problems.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, Samantha "Sam" Carter/Rodney McKay, Tony Stark & Rodney McKay
Series: Starman 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030623
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	in retrospect

i.

By the time they reach the driveway, Tony is so wiped out he barely acknowledges the familiar sight of his living room before making a beeline for the nearest available surface he can be horizontal on. He’s got enough sense to land on the arm that’s not wrapped in a sling before the rest — Pepper and Happy’s whispered exchange, Rhodey’s quiet goodbye, even the unmistakable voice of JARVIS agreeing to dim all the lights — fades away as he gives in to the pull of his exhaustion.

The conversation with Obie took the wind out of his sails better than any press conference could ever hope to. He can always tell a room full of reporters exactly where he wants them to stick it, but Obie’s not a bloodsucker with a camera. Standing in front of him, under his dad’s greatest creation, made Tony feel like he was seventeen again — just as clueless and way in over his head.

 _Don’t waste it_.

Yinsen’s dying face, now burned on the back of Tony’s eyelids forever, is the backbone of his resolve, and he really does believe everything he said back at the factory. But if he doesn’t get Obie’s support on what he’s about to do, Tony’s man enough to admit that he doesn’t know where to go from there.

_Don’t waste your life._

He wakes up with a start, trying to chase away the memory of sand down his throat. It takes more than a couple of deep breaths to realize where he is, and Tony clenches a fist on smooth sheets to stop himself from screaming.

It’s not new to him, waking up in his bed with no recollection of how he got there, but it’s the first time he comes to with the smell of burning flesh in the air.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

The greeting is followed by opaque windows shifting to let sunlight in.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony rasps, reminding himself that he’s home. “It’s damn good to hear your voice again.”

JARVIS, as usual, doesn’t miss a beat. “And it is good to hear yours, sir.”

He’s still wearing the previous night’s clothes, sans belt and shoes, and a distant part of Tony’s mind spares a moment to be horrified at the possibility that it might not have been Happy who took them off.

"Time?” With a grunt, he uses his good arm to sit up.

“It is 10:34 in the morning,” JARVIS supplies. “Ms. Potts has arranged for breakfast, but she insists you take it in the dining room.” There’s a short pause. “That is, after your shower, sir.”

Tony surprises himself when he snorts, the sound rough against his ears. “Got it. Pizza?”

He hears the disapproval even before JARVIS responds. “Ms. Potts has taken measures to ensure your meals follow the doctor’s orders.”

“Of course she did.”

Tony knows that Pepper knows that not even _two_ broken arms will get him to subsist on a low-sodium diet, but she’s right about the shower.

Just as he’s about to cross the threshold to the first proper bathroom he’s seen outside of caves and military hospitals in three months, Tony stops.

“Hey JARVIS,” he calls out over his shoulder. “Anyone left a message while I was away?”

“Which email would that be, sir?”

“Any,” he says, resisting the urge to wave the hand still on a sling. “All of them.”

In the mirror, Tony is briefly mesmerized by lights blinking in the control above his bedside table. _He’s really home_.

JARVIS snaps him out of it by saying, “Applying the filters last updated ninety-six days ago, you have 2,488 messages.”

Tony frowned at his reflection. “That’s already _filtered_?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Huh.”

He raises a hand to his face, scarcely recognizing the man looking back at him. There’s so many things Tony doesn’t know about him, really, but he remembers perfectly what was racing through the poor bastard's mind when he’d seen his name plastered on the weapons being carted around an Afghan terrorist camp.

He remembers hearing echoes of a fight that happened almost a lifetime ago, an argument Tony was so sure he’d won. You need to _fight_ if you want peace, dammit.

At least, that's what he told himself was right, then.

“Any of those messages from, uh,” He swallows around the lump in his throat, “a McKay? Dr. McKay?”

It seems like a disproportionately long time before JARVIS answers, but Tony suspects it’s all in his mind.

“There are none, sir.”

The bitter taste in Tony’s mouth doesn’t taste like sand at all. “ _Rodney_ McKay? No?”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He goes inside the bathroom with heavier footsteps, more than a little annoyed that his AI ever learned to apologize.

ii.

Tony comes home from the charity ball so mad he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Obie’s words — self-righteous and patronizing and absolutely fucking removed from anything _resembling sense_ — continue to rattle against the walls of his head as he stops in the middle of the basement, wondering where the hell everything went wrong.

_I’m from a small town called Gulmira. It’s actually a nice place._

He showed up to the damn party to prove everyone wrong. Instead, Christine Everhart’s pictures only confirmed what he’s been trying so hard not to believe for the past few months. Maybe his whole life.

“JARVIS?” he calls out to the empty space.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

It’s been weeks now since Tony came back. Surely the stubborn jerk is at the very least _curious_.

“Still nothing?”

When JARVIS answers, he tells himself it’s just the anger that’s making him imagine the sympathy in the disembodied voice’s words.

“If you’re referring to any messages from Dr. Rodney McKay, there are still none, sir.”

With a sharp nod that makes his headache worse, Tony walks away and turns on the news.

iii.

For the first time since he’s met the man, Tony is actually grateful for Agent Coulson’s presence, if only so there is someone else in the room to absorb the full brunt of a Pepper on a rampage.

He’ll admit, her flushed face had been cute and distracting enough that he allowed Rhodey to manhandle him away from the press with little protest. As soon as the door closed, however, Tony quickly realized that any cheeky comment will only dig him into a deeper hole, and he started to backpedal even before Pepper could open her mouth. Apparently, something on his face must’ve betrayed his sincere desperation, because Coulson had set aside his own disapproval to usher Pepper out of the room under the pretense of hashing out the details of Tony’s latest stunt.

They’ve been gone for almost half an hour now, and Tony’s starting to get a little antsy.

“Finally,” he exclaims when he hears the knob turn. “And here I thought you’d all forgotten about—”

The woman crossing the threshold is not Pepper, and it sure as hell ain’t Rhodey or Agent Coulson.

“Hello, Anthony.”

Her hair’s longer, and the stiff way she’s holding herself is bound to be terrible for her back, but Tony’s always going to recognize her anywhere. There’s just people like that in your life, damned annoying as it is.

“I like the hair,” he tells Samantha Carter, glad that at least his voice comes out in an even drawl.

For someone Tony hasn’t seen in years, Sam is still very predictable with her reactions. He watches as she winces before schooling her expression back to the flat look that Tony’s always hated seeing on her normally expressive face.

“I only have a few minutes,” Sam almost hisses. “It’s best if we don’t waste each other’s time.”

Tony blinks, then almost laughs out loud at the sheer audacity.

“I don’t know, Sammie.” He shrugs. “Maybe I wanna see Rhodey dragging your ass out of here. Would be nice for you to remember that not _everyone_ in the United States Air Force thinks you hung the moon.”

Sam's eyes flash. “ _Listen_ , Stark. I’m here for one thing and one thing only: to find out if you were telling the truth about the Iron Man and—”

“See, I’m not sold on that name yet. I find it a little _tacky_.”

“—and whether or not its technology can have practical applications. Any personal issues between us are just gonna have to wait.”

This time, Tony allows himself to roll his eyes. He saunters toward one of the chairs in the room and settles down, his pace and the silence no doubt only making Sam’s eyes twitch even more violently.

“I already told Rhodey — who asked more politely, by the way — that I’m not giving the military anything. Not anymore.” He raises an eyebrow when he meets Sam’s narrowed eyes. “Your overpaid, little R&D club will just have to find something else to play with.”

Sam doesn’t take the chair opposite him, but she moves to the side, placing herself directly in Tony’s line of sight.

“So what, you’re just gonna fly around in a shiny suit that can level cities and not expect anyone to demand accountability?”

Tony holds her gaze, and for the briefest of moments, it’s Obie standing in front of him, smug and delusional and just as familiar. He blinks and the vision is gone, but Tony’s anger stays behind.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” he asks Sam. “Your dad?”

He doesn’t miss the way the woman he grew up with flinches, and he barely keeps himself from spitting out, _Peggy would be ashamed of you_.

“He put you up to this, didn’t he? Of course he did. I can’t see you coming here to see me otherwise.” Tony scoffs, and makes a production of looking away, to somewhere outside the window where he knows the whole world is waiting to get a piece of him. Like hell is he gonna let them. “Sharon definitely didn’t talk to you, and I know that because she talks to _me_.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees her bristle. “Leave my sister out of this.”

“Funny,” he drawls, looking away from the window to stare at Sam’s indignant face. “The way she tells it, she isn’t your anything anymore.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment she gives up. Sam’s shoulders tense in a defensive position and she shakes herself back into some measure of control.

“I’m starting to realize my coming here was a mistake.” Her eyes flit toward the window Tony was looking at, and something flickers in her face before she shifts her attention back to him, a tight smile offered in courtesy. “I should go.”

“It is,” he tells her, suddenly feeling tired. “And you should.”

“Have a nice day, Mr. Stark.”

“You too, Dr. Carter.” He lets her reach the door before he speaks again. “You know, I liked you better when you were a McKay.”

Sam doesn’t turn around, but Tony watches as her entire body stills. When she answers, her voice comes out void of any emotion. “We both know I never took his name.”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Probably the one good thing you did for him.”

iv.

_Blood toxicity: 68%_

What’s funny is that Tony’s no stranger to hangovers. He’s more than well aware that waking up with cotton balls for brains and the smell of dead rats wafting out of every exhale is never a good sign. Hangovers only ever accompany two things, after all: headache and regrets.

He doesn’t need the detailed account from JARVIS, but the jerk gives it to him anyway. Tony trudges his way across the trashed living room, still wearing most of his armor, and he manages to wince only seven out of the nine times Pepper’s name comes up.

“And your core is in need of replacement again, sir.”

Tony’s head snaps at the non sequitur, tearing him away from an intense observation of a stain that smells suspiciously like watermelon.

“In approximately 14.32 minutes, the current one will be completely depleted.”

Not in the mood to put up a fight, Tony shucks off the rest of his gear and makes his way downstairs.

Just because his foggy mind remembers replacing the damn thing just before the party, doesn’t mean he’s right. He’d had three fingers of scotch even before the DJ showed up; his memory’s bound to be sketchy.

“Guess it’s pointless to keep asking, huh?”

The new Palladium core hisses as Tony presses it into the Arc Reactor, the bright centerpiece a sharp contrast to the latticework of veins across his chest.

“I mean, nothing makes a girl feel more special than a buddy forgetting to send a birthday card, right?”

The words come out more strained than Tony was going for, and as soon as he hears himself, he’s suddenly glad the house is empty. The response from JARVIS doesn’t give him enough time to examine why.

“There are still no messages, sir. Four accounts in your list are no longer active and the twelve you’ve added arbitrarily over the months are either not operational or being used by individuals having no associations with Dr. McKay.”

“Hey!” Tony twists in his seat to glare at the ceiling. “I just told you to flag the accounts when they _do_ make contact, not run _background checks_.”

JARVIS continues like it’s Tony who is both incorporeal and nonvisible between the two of them.

“The string extrapolated from the keywords you’ve provided yielded 21,348 email addresses, none of which received legitimate inquiries.”

“Legitimate?”

“Spam, sir.” There’s a pause after that, a moment Tony knows from experience is JARVIS attempting to override his non-sarcasm protocol. “But you could always provide another set of keywords.”

Tony rolls his eyes. There’s no use trying to make his AI understand that there are actual people out there who may just seriously try to reach Anthony Stark using an email address that starts with _cheetomonster42_. One specific person, actually.

“Nah.” He sighs, so tired his vision is starting to blur. “Just cancel all monitoring packets, buddy. And delete all logs when you’re done.”

Before Tony can step away from the holotable, JARVIS speaks again.

“There is one other thing we can do, Mr. Stark.”

After three beats, Tony sits his ass back down. They’ve had this conversation before, and JARVIS takes his silence as cue.

“All search parameters are in place, sir. A standard sweep shall provide you with all pertinent information regarding Dr. McKay’s whereabouts and updated contact information. That way, you will be able to initiate correspondence yourself.”

It surprises Tony a little, to realize that JARVIS doesn’t even sound like he’s yanking Tony’s chain this time.

“Rest assured all security measures will be applied. Any evidence of the search will be managed accordingly.”

Tony snorts despite himself, and he wonders which lines of code is responsible for teaching his AI about human pride. “You sure know how to sweeten the pot, my friend.”

Most details are still fuzzy, but if Tony closes his eyes, he can see faint images from the disaster last night. He remembers the curve of disappointment in Pepper’s lips, the sound of Happy’s worried shout. He can make out Rhodey’s silhouette against the light of weapons fire, the armor a taut line blending in the shadows before taking off.

“All right,” he tells JARVIS. “Do it. But don’t notify me the moment you find something. Compile all results, and I’ll let you know when I want them. And keep everything on my private server.”

“Copy that, sir.” Data stream begins to fill most of the computer screens. “Shall I order lunch?”

“It’s fine.” Before he can change his mind and rescind the order, Tony gets up. “I’m going out for a bit. Know any doughnut places nearby?”

v.

“He was right.”

On the other side of the worktable, Bruce Banner looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

Tony shakes his head. “Can’t believe the son of a bitch was right. All this time.”

Slowly and with deliberate care, Banner takes off his glasses and gives him a small, hesitant smile. Tony’s mind is still on a roll, but he clocks the move with a measure of disbelief, a little insulted that the man who can turn himself into a 2000-pound killing machine looks like he’s trying to calm _Tony_ down.

“You’re not one of those . . . people who refer to themselves in third person, are you?”

“What?”

Banner’s hands shoot up in a placating gesture, effectively cutting Tony’s train of thought. “Hey, it’s all right. Nothing against that. Really.” He shrugs, both open palms still facing Tony. “We all have quirks. I mean, heh, we both know what _mine_ is.”

Quirks? ” What the hell are you talking about?”

The hands are put down, but Banner uses one to point at something in front of them. When Tony’s gaze follows, he sees coils of solder wire beneath his fingers, twisted and turned into different shapes. One of the smaller pieces can even pass for an inspired attempt at recreating Fury’s eyepatch.

“Huh.”

“What was he right about?”

Shaking away the heat growing in his nape, Tony shoves the heavy-duty Silly Bandz out of the way and blinks at Banner. “Sorry?”

This time, Banner’s sympathetic smile is neither small nor hesitant, and Tony talks himself out of the urge to insist that no, he wasn’t _apologizing_. He just _wasn’t listening_. The other man may have carried him like a ragdoll when he fell out of the sky, but there’s still plenty of lows one can go.

“You kept saying someone was right all along,” Banner reminds him. “About what?”

Before Tony can process the question, he spares a second to appreciate Banner’s priorities.

As a rule, he doesn’t have a lot of patience for the theoretical sciences, those without immediate and practical application on a mass-production scale. This mindset has gotten him into some of the longest-running arguments of his life.

Most people would’ve asked about the ‘who’. The fact that Banner’s curiosity latched on to the ‘what’ makes Tony look at the scientist whose views on electron–positron annihilation is idealistic _at best_ with a little more respect. Maybe the gamma radiation didn’t fry all the guy’s brain cells, after all.

“Were you surprised?” he blurts out. “When they told us aliens were real, were you surprised? Or was there a part of you that saw it coming?”

Instead of answering, Banner looks away to rest his eyes on something behind Tony. Following the other man’s gaze, Tony turns and finds himself staring at the root of all the shitstorm they’ve barely survived yesterday. The Tesseract’s in his possession until the God of Thunder comes back to take it away for good. It’s a gesture of good faith extended by Fury for saving the world, and that Tony has taken it as his due doesn’t hurt anybody.

“I don’t know about ‘surprised’, but it sure was a bit of a shock. Not to mention _sobering_.”

Tony gives the glowing box one last dirty look before shifting his judgment back on Banner. “Sobering.”

Banner meets his stare evenly.

“Among other things, yes.” When it looks like Tony hasn’t reacted appropriately, Banner sighs. “Look at it this way. For the last couple of years, all I ever thought about was my condition. It became my entire world. Everything began and ended with my quest for a cure. I mean, what could possibly be more important than that?”

A dark look clouds Banner’s eyes before he blinks and offers a weary shrug.

“When your life gets that insular, a bunch of people telling you that H.G. Wells may as well have been a prophet can be a little _sobering_. Nothing makes a guy feel insignificant quite like finding out that the universe really isn’t as small as we originally thought.” He shakes his head. “Or as we’re comfortable with.”

Before Tony can stop it, his mind pulses with flashes from the previous day’s battle. He recalls the weight of the missile on his back, sees Pepper’s face in his mind’s eye. He remembers going through a wordless farewell and, distantly, an apology long overdue.

“I know this guy,” he tells Banner. “Known him my whole life. We took to the same things, you know? And I can even admit he’s _almost_ on my level of genius. Almost.” He ignores the snort and continues. “Sometimes, I was so sure even my dad liked him more. Can’t really say I blame him.”

“Tony—”

“No, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.” The looks Banner gives him isn’t of one that’s convinced, but he takes the lack of interruption as answer enough. “Only problem is, this guy? Head’s up in the clouds. _Way_ up. Loved the stars more than anything else here on god’s green earth. And he didn’t approve of what Stark Industries was doing. Didn’t pull his punches telling us all about it, too.”

When Tony sighs, what little fight he’s got left rushes out of him in one breath.

“I think this is what he’s been telling me all these years,” he hears himself tell Banner. “I guess I just didn’t listen.”

As sudden as the cascade of memories, Tony remembers something else, and he almost knocks himself off his seat as he jumps in surprise.

“JARVIS,” he calls out to the room. “Bring me everything you’ve got on Project Meredith.” Seeing Banner’s confusion, Tony waves a dismissive hand. “Long story.”

“That’s going to be a problem, Mr. Stark.”

The energy in the room dips a fraction. “What? Why?”

A holotable to his right initializes, but Tony can’t see any data stream. He turns back to the ceiling, more than a little impatient.

“The search came up empty, sir.”

Tony stills. “I— I don’t understand.”

“Our sweep protocol was unable to locate any viable information on Dr. Rodney McKay,” JARVIS tells him. “It would appear he’s been off the grid for the last eight years.”

vi.

The world dims around the edges, but Tony holds his ground. It doesn’t take much, really. The acute fury he feels in his blood is more than enough to keep his spine straight and his feet rooted to the carpeted floor.

“You’re a real piece of work, I’ll give you that.”

Behind her chair, Sam jerks as if Tony just struck her. Good.

“You think I’m _lying_?” she thunders, eyes bright with the first real emotion Tony has seen from her since he stepped inside her office. Any other day, he might’ve found a sick sort of glee in that. “How _dare_ you. It’s not my fault you never bothered to ask before now!”

There’s something in Sam’s voice that makes Tony pause, something dangerously familiar, before he remembers just who it is he’s talking to.

“I knew you were gonna be a pain in the ass,” Tony spits out, “but this is low, Carter. Even for you.” It takes him exactly two steps to reach the table between them, where he plants his fist to lean right in her face. “Shouldn’t have been surprised. Although I _am_ disappointed with your utter lack of imagination.”

What Tony hears next is a loud crack, followed by a sharp sting that spreads warmth across the side of his face.

“Fuck you, Tony.”

The slap snaps his head to the right, sending the room spinning in a blur of bright lights. When Tony comes to, he turns to find Sam’s flushed face, twisted in the kind of righteous anger he hasn’t seen on her since they were teenagers.

The tone of her voice is just as familiar. “They called me to ID the body. I was there. I saw it.”

Tony’s knees don’t exactly give out, but there’s a gap in his memory between watching Sam’s tight expression to realizing he’s all but slumped on one of her plush chairs.

“Rodney’s dead.”

vii.

The sun slips behind a cloud just as Tony steps out of the car, and the light that bathes the clearing shifts into something even and unobtrusive. He keeps his eyes sharp as he makes his way across freshly cut grass, Sam’s clinical instructions all but memorized.

When he reaches the marker, the sun stays hidden. Tony keeps his sunglasses on.

“Well.”

Tony can’t tell how long he’s been standing there when he hears the quip.

“Can’t really say I’m surprised you two knew each other.” The man who parked himself beside Tony is tall, with his own tailored suit and aviators. The smirk on his face is familiar, just a few shades shy of the insolence Tony’s never had any trouble channeling. “Hell, from what I hear, you might as well have been grown in the same lab.”

The stranger’s ridiculous hair bounces when he scoffs, and Tony finds himself blinking at it. When the moment passes, he checks his reflection on the guy’s Ray-Bans.

“And who are you supposed to be?”

To Tony’s surprise, the aviators come off and he’s being offered a hand. “John Sheppard.”

It’s the shock of recognition that Tony blames for the handshake that follows.

“Sheppard?” He briefly recalls subsidiary acquisition and failed defense contracts. “One of them Sheppards?”

“Yep.” There’s another smirk, but Tony is given no further details.

It’s clear Sheppard already knows who he’s talking to, which is a relief since Tony really can’t remember the last time he’s given his name for any purpose other than irony.

The relief vanishes when Sheppard jerks his head to the direction of the marker, his own smirk gone, and Tony is reminded where he is. “Paying respect?”

Somehow, the simple question makes Tony bristle, and he senses an answering hostility in the way Sheppard draws himself to his full height.

Tony replays the man’s earlier comments. “Can’t say I’m _not_ surprised to see one of Sheppard Equities’ sons here.” He adds a shrug for good measure. “Don’t see you having anything in common.” The _‘with him_ ’ goes unmentioned, but Tony can tell he got his point across.

“Patrick Sheppard.”

“What?”

“Who,” Sheppard corrects smoothly. “The man who sired me. Not Sheppard Equities. I’m pretty sure I came before the company. David, too. Besides, I’m not part of the family business.”

Tony watches Sheppard’s shoulders relax, his hands carefully being tucked inside his pockets as he breaks Tony’s gaze to stare at the headstone in front of them.

“Rodney wouldn’t have given me the time of day otherwise.”

The air stills, and the sun Tony’s been baiting since he arrived chooses that moment to come out of hiding.

It’s gotta be the heat, he tells himself, when he feels his breath hitching. “You know him.”

Sheppard looks up and squints at the sky, but he doesn’t put his shades back on. “I was here five years ago, if that’s what you mean.”

It isn’t Sam’s hard eyes that finally make it click inside Tony’s head. It’s not the deep search he insists JARVIS run four times, six, eleven, before he puts a hole through the holotable. Not even the name engraved on the stone makes it real for Tony.

What drives it all home, somehow, is the brittle look on John Sheppard’s face, the clipped words hollowing out a space in Tony’s chest more effectively than any magnet hooked up to a car battery.

Rodney McKay is dead.

“What happened?”

Sheppard looks down, shooting Tony a sidelong glance when he scoffs. “Carter didn’t tell you?”

Half-amused despite himself, Tony wonders just how _not_ surprised Sheppard is to run into him today.

“Sam didn’t say.”

It wasn’t easy asking for the name of the cemetery, and Tony knew it had taken a lot for Sam to give it. He didn’t dare stick around after that.

Something on his face must’ve betrayed his thoughts, because Sheppard nods and squares his shoulders, as though steeling himself.

“I was out of the country,” Tony hears him say. “He still had an apartment in Nevada. Told him so many times to get rid of it already, but he kept saying there’s so much stuff. I suspected there was sentimental value involved, but I knew I’d never be able to get him to admit that.”

Tony briefly gets lost in a memory of his own, of a night in Las Vegas filled with booze and music capped off with pizza and a stupid game of Twister with his newly wedded best friends.

“Gas leak next door.” Like he’s expecting a protest, Sheppard throws him a glare and grits his teeth as he spits out the rest of the words. “No foul play as far as anyone could tell, and _trust me_ , they went far.” Somehow, Tony doesn’t doubt it. “It was just the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He looks away when Sheppard’s done, compelled to give the man some privacy.

“Some of the neighbors still remembered the wife, so the cops called Carter.” Sheppard's chuckle sounds bitter and this time, he places the aviators back on. “I wasn’t there.”

After a long time, Tony hears someone say, “I was in Nevada that weekend,” before he realizes it came from him. Of course it was. He’s checked the date so many times even JARVIS got fed up.

“Small world,” Sheppard points out.

Tony looks at the sky, and wonders if it can possibly hold everything that made up Rodney McKay. “Not small enough.”

viii.

The night before Thor’s scheduled to arrive, Tony kicks everyone out of the tower, even Pepper, and disables all the safety protocols in the Tesseract’s containment chamber.

In his defense, he hasn’t slept in over thirty hours, he just had a fight with his girlfriend, and he’s halfway through a 1000-mL Erlenmeyer flask filled with bourbon when he does it.

It’s been almost a week since he got back from San Francisco, and after Barton’s fifth comment about healthy bedtimes and pissy billionaires, Tony snapped.

It took both Rogers and Banner to keep the agent from landing a good one when Tony brought up Coulson, pressing hard on bruises he wasn’t even aware he knew about.

They didn't need a lot to clear the room after that.

“He’ll be having a stroke if he can see you right now.”

As the only bright thing inside the dark laboratory, the Tesseract draws the eye like a black hole attracts light.

“And he’ll know exactly what you’re supposed to do, of course.”

Rodney will, too. Tony’s sure of it. He’ll be so all over this thing Fury won’t ever be able to get a word in edgewise. He’ll run circles around the military and square off against any politician with an agenda. Hell, the guy will probably march to Asgard himself to make sure the God of Thunder knows what he’s doing.

The Tesseract stares back at him, like it’s aware exactly what Tony’s thinking about. He knows it’s a massive power source, and can light up all of New York City for who knows how long. Tony has seen it open a portal to another world.

“I wonder,” he murmurs, hanging on to consciousness by the skin of his teeth, “if you can bring back people, too.”

As though moved by a force out of his control, Tony’s free hand starts to reach out for the cube. He’s about a breath away from touching distance when he realizes what he’s doing, but by then even Tony knows it’s too late.

The last thing he hears is the sound of glass breaking before the world gets sucked into the abyss.

ix.

When Tony comes out of oblivion, he hears something colliding with something harder. He has the distinct impression that the former is his body, and whatever the latter is, it’s made of solid metal.

As soon as he opens his eyes, he finds the world spinning, and it goes on spinning for a few more beats before he lands somewhere flat for what he hopes is the final time.

Tony’s grunt is drowned out by the blaring of emergency klaxons, the thud of countless pairs of boots against concrete floor, and the unmistakable sound of several weapons being aimed.

Heaving himself off the pathetic crouch he’s in, the first thing Tony’s eye catches is a head full of familiar blonde hair, trimmed into a length so short it reminds him of a childhood memory that involves a broken telescope, plastic scissors, and traitorous friends.

He blinks, but while the face morphs slightly, it doesn’t change.

“Sam?”

Samantha Carter is not aiming a gun at him, but she frowns and takes a step forward. It’s then that Tony realizes she’s wearing something Rhodey would’ve had a dozen of in his closet. He doesn’t like how it seems to cling to her like second skin.

Sam opens her mouth, but it’s the man beside her, who is most definitely pointing a gun at Tony’s person, that speaks.

“Who the hell are you?”

x.

The foot tapping has been going on for over a minute now, but no one seems to be paying any attention to it. Tony’s frown deepens, and he makes himself sigh loud enough that it cannot be ignored.

Finally, Mer notices and shoots a scowl of his own. “What!”

Tony’s mouth falls, stunned that Mer feels like he has any right to sound impatient. “I thought we had a deal!” Everyone flinches at the way his voice breaks, but Tony soldiers on. “I seem to remember you agreeing that there are No. Girls. Allowed.”

Meredith waves a dismissive hand, his focus still on one of the stupid tubes. “Sam’s not a girl.”

Almost immediately, the Not-Girl in question pops her head out of the box and hits Mer on the side of the face. Tony absolutely does not laugh.

“Ow! Okay! Fine!” Mer rubs his ear and spears both Sam and Tony with a dark glare. It doesn’t work. “For the purposes of this little project, Samantha is not a girl.” That earns him another whack. “OW! Hey, that’s enough!”

“That’s a stupid rule!" Sam shrieks. “How about: No Idiots Allowed.”

Tony rolls his eyes, and he catches Mer’s own doing the same. They share a conspiratorial grin before remembering that they're supposed to be fighting.

Still clutching his assaulted ear, Mer pauses to consider the proposal.

“Fine,” he declares a few beats later. “That works for me.”

Both Meredith and Sam turn to Tony. He lasts for three seconds.

“Whatever.” He sighs, and they all know it’s settled.

It’s an hour later when Mer gives up on his tubes and lies on the grass. Tony, who didn’t show up today for the experiment, joins him not soon after. Sam makes a brave effort to look busy for all of five minutes before they hear a frustrated huff and she joins them, parking herself to Mer’s right.

“It’s gonna be dark soon,” Mer whispers, sounding just as excited every time he waits for the stars to come out during nights like this.

They know it’s gonna be clear skies tonight, and a cool night sky will only be ruined with Tony’s bad news. He decides that telling them about his dad’s plans to send him to a boarding school after the summer break will just have to wait.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

They all nod, and Tony takes a deep breath.

“I promise not to work for the military and blow myself up,” Sam vows.

Tony snorts but continues with his own, “I promise not to make things that get Sam blown up.”

It takes a long moment for Mer to speak. Ever since the incident with the lemon pie, they’ve had his pledge changed for a month, just to be safe. Tonight makes it the last night before he’s back to promising them he’ll find a way to reach the stars.

“I promise not to die,” Mer declares proudly.

Tony closes his eyes, satisfied.

They all go silent after that, content with waiting for the sun to set. In this silence Tony basks, allowing their pledges to settle in his heart.

xxx


End file.
